Sunset
by VirgoMaiden
Summary: Oneshot. Geora. The infamous couple gets stuck on the roof. What else but hilarity can ensue? An attempt to communicate with squirrels, dropped hammers, stuck windows, and "The Great Car Dent of '08," apparently...


A/N: Based on the prompt "Sunset

**A/N:** Based on the prompt "Sunset." Slight spoilers for "Ivan who?" and "Things That Go Bump in the Night." **Rated for "bad" language.**

I was going to post this after finishing Blast from the Past, but my plane got delayed. A lot. (-_mutters_- stupid weather…)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own. LWD. This is just an outlet for my amusement.

**-oOo-**

"**Sunset"**

Unlike most people, Nora McDonald-Venturi doesn't find sunsets refreshing or beautiful, but depressing. She doesn't see how the oncoming of nightfall is enlightening or romantic.

She has always appreciated the morning much more than the night. The morning gives her the chance to start anew, to forget the mistakes that she might have made the previous day. In contrast, the night always causes her to reflect on those mistakes. With reflection comes guilt, and with that guilt comes the inevitable sadness.

But there is no time to think of that now, because George has forced her onto the roof with him. Well, not forced, exactly; he just wanted to climb onto the roof and fix that annoying leak that was above Edwin's room. But George being George, and George being, well, _clumsy_, she had dashed up the ladder after him instantly, bent on having him standing back on solid ground.

It was harder than she thought; George was incredible stubborn, although the need to "protect his family" was strangely reminiscent of Ivanhoe.

It was during the "begging" phase (after having gone through reasoning, bargaining, and threatening) that the hammer had slipped from their hands (she had been trying to get it our of his), slid down the roof, and hit one of the legs of the ladder, causing it to – with great theatrics – fall to the ground.

They stood there for a moment, in shock, before rushing to the edge of the roof and peering down quite helplessly at their one chance for escape.

Finally, she spoke.

"Georgie, where's your phone?" It was eerily calm, and it would be quite obvious that she, in Derek's terms, would "Freak out just like Casey."

He immediately stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, and quickly withdrew the beaten metal device. She grabbed it from him immediately.

After a few minutes of silence and the strangely loud sound of pushing buttons, he heard her voice again:

"It's not turning on."

It quivered slightly as she said this. She turned her head to him in desperation. "George," she said quickly, "why isn't this turning on?"

He shrugged. "It was out of battery last time that I checked."

A sudden scream filled the air after he said that. It screams (no pun intended) frustration, although if one had the experience that a certain George Venturi had, the smallest hint of…hysteria…comes into view.

"Then-why-isn't-it-_charged_?!" Through a strange series of mental regression, Nora hit him on his side with each word (dangerous work when you're on a roof), and he momentarily thought of Casey and Derek's fights over the remote. Mirroring the famous Derek cop-out move, he took a sudden hold of her hands, albeit nervously, and began to speak in slow, sedated tones:

"Because I didn't foresee this type of thing happening," he replied evenly. He and Derek are alike this way: both keep strangely calm when confronted with a classic McDonald freakout.

She glared at him for a moment, but it suddenly softened as a flash of realization went through her. Her eyes grew wide with such a realization and her eyebrows were almost wiped off of her face. George noticed this change, and grew worried.

"Nora...?" he asked slowly, "are you okay?"

"I'm better than okay," she said in a hushed tone. "Remember that time Casey and Derek tried to sneak out?"

He nodded along slowly. "The Great Car Dent of '08 or the Great Fall of '09?"

"The Great Fall of '09."

He nodded again. "Derek and Casey had tried to sneak out by way of roof, but Casey slipped and hung by the rain gutter for almost twenty minutes before Derek finally decided to get help."

"And how did they get the roof?" Nora prompted.

His eyes widened with the realization. "One of the dormer windows," he whispered.

She nodded furiously. "Yes!" she shouted. "The dormer windows! Which leads to the –''

" – Attic, which leads to the main house!" George finished. The excitement was contagious, as he found himself shouting with her now, face-to-face, both of their hands slapping in awkward hi-fives.

They had scrambled over the side of the roof with few problems which consisted of George's clumsy feet and Nora nearly dropping the hammer. The two occurrences were then closely followed with whatever curse first came to mind.

They found themselves at the window in one piece, though, and for that they considered themselves lucky.

Nora was bent awkwardly around the side of the window, trying to asses the room through the layer of dust. 

"Edwin needs to clean these, George," she called absently. Then, soon after, came an "Aha!" and she stuck her arm back towards him expectantly.

Not missing a beat, he quickly gave her the hammer and the arm quickly receded, tool in hand. Not a minute after, there were sounds of exasperation and metal rubbing wood.

"George," she called out, "why is this nailed shut?"

"So Casey, Derek, Lizzie, Edwin, and Marti won't be able to sneak out in the future," he replied.

"Oh."

There were a few more minutes of silence – the spare sound of a hammer pulling out nails every now and then – before Nora called out again.

"George?" she asked, "why isn't this opening?"

A look of puzzlement appeared on George's face. "Are all the nails out?" he said.

"Yes…" Nora said slowly. "But it still won't open."

George was quiet for a moment as he racked his brains over the new problem. Then, a small _shit_ escaped his mouth as realization hit him in the chest. With that "shit," Nora's stomach became heavy with dread.

"Georgie…?" she called out slowly, "Are you okay?"

It was quiet again for a moment before he mumbled, "It's nailed down on the inside too."

What happened next could only be explained as a slip of sanity on Nora's part: With a yell, she flung the hammer to the ground – which was a full three stories away.

It was then that George figured that the two of them were beyond screwed.

The sun had begun to sink down to the rooftops of houses, and the kids still weren't back yet. 

This didn't shock him too badly, though; their luck had already gone beyond downhill, and he couldn't honestly expect it to have gotten better.

Nora wasn't treating him so well either; about a half-hour ago, she had holed herself away from him up on the pinnacle of the roof, glaring moodily at the driveway and ignoring any apology from him.

And it wasn't like he had to take this! No, there were plenty of things that he could have done, on a roof, that did not involve talking to his wife. Even though she was the only other person on it.

So he soon found himself sitting on the edge, close to one of the trees in the yard, trying to create a communication system between himself and the squirrels. So far, nothing much had happened.

Except for an attempt on his life by way of acorn.

Little did he know, Nora had been watching this little exchange for its entirety, and had found herself dangerously close to laughing when she saw her husband of three years being pelted with acorns. Or trying to mimic the squeaks that the furry beasts made. It was a close tie.

George stiffened, feeling someone's gaze upon his back, and although he turned around, Nora was staring determinedlythe other way. He smiled briefly at her stubbornness, then, glancing briefly at her arms, made his way over to her carefully.

She looked up at him curiously as he approached and opened her mouth in protest before he neatly dropped his jacket onto her lap.

Her arms had been crossed across her chest, hands moving up and down to keep said arms warm. She looked down at it curiously, then up at him as he made himself comfortable next to her.

Awkwardly, she pulled it on, rolling up the sleeves where it was too big on her. Then, unexplainably nervous, she leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder. He exhaled deeply, and she had been totally unaware that he was nervous.

It was quiet between them for a while as they sat like that, the sunset stretching to the point where it topped the rooftops before their eyes.

Finally she spoke.

"Georgie…?" she asked slowly, not looking at him.

"Hm?" he replied absently.

"Do you...like sunsets?"

If George was surprised at her question, he didn't show it. Instead, he took a steadying breath and said slowly, "Yeah. They make me feel relaxed, as cliché as that may seem."

"Why?"

George focused on the sinking sun in thought; this question was causing him to tap into his usually left-alone "poetic soul." This was probably going to hurt him later…

"Well…" he said carefully, "When Abby and I first divorced, I was really…afraid. Marti was still so young – only three or four, I think – and Edwin was so quiet; as if the divorce had insulted him somehow by the fact that he was living with me (he and his mom have always gotten along really well), and Derek was…Derek. He took the divorce pretty hard, being in middle school when it happened. 

I didn't know what I was doing, sometimes, when I was making dinner, or checking homework… I always felt that I was being compared to Abby, even though she hadn't been home much before the divorce. This sometimes made me feel on-edge; especially since I couldn't show it to the kids.

But… at nighttime, when Marti would go to bed willingly and Edwin would be in his room working on an experiment (he had started those right after the divorce – he's always needed to work) and Derek would just be sitting on the couch, maybe watching TV with me while I tried to get some work – house or office related – done. And it made me feel… like I wasn't a failure as a father, even though my marriage hadn't worked out, or I wasn't the best at packing lunches, or coming up with fun games to play with Marti – which was where Derek began to come in – or checking homework or being the manly 'man of the house.'"

Nora had the strongest urge to wrap her arms around him and did so. "So… you started associating your good feelings with the night, and therefore the sunsets?" she asked quietly.

George laughed. "Well, if you want to take out the poetry, sure."

Nora figured that it was her turn to talk then.

"Dennis never came home on time in the evenings. I didn't work much when we were married – and Casey was only in fourth grade when the divorce was going on, so she might not remember it so well, so I usually would look out of our apartment window and think 'It's six o'clock, and your husband won't be home in time for dinner. What now?' So I began to overcompensate… Pressuring Casey to work hard in school, to dance seriously… I didn't pressure Lizzie because she was too young," she sighed then. "I suppose that, looking back, I wanted Dennis to start cluing in to Casey's soaring grades and Lizzie's junior soccer league… And he might, in the morning… But at nighttime? Almost unheard of. It just made me feel…"

"Empty?" George asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

She nodded clumsily. "…Yeah…" she said.

It was about nine o'clock (and the two had been stuck on the roof for a grand total of three hours) when a pair of headlights turned into the driveway, waking Nora and George from their comatose state. They almost didn't believe it at first, until the car doors slammed open and closed and their children's distinctive voices carried to the roof.

"…Smerek, will you play princess with me tonight?"

"He will, Marti; he can't resist being so pretty…"

"_Some_one in this family has to, Case."

"_What are you saying?"_

"Ten bucks says that Derek will win this round." 

"Ten on Casey; she won the movie argument."

"Look, Smerek, I found a hammer in the bushes!"

Marti's line cut all conversations short and as Derek began trying to convince her to hand it to him, George and Nora's voices broke the silence. 

"Up here! We're up here!" George shouted, waving his arms wildly.

"Derek! Casey! Edwin! Lizzie! Can you see us?" Nora called, trying to keep her balance (it would be such a waste if she fell now…) on the roof.

"Go into the back yard," George continued, "And see if you can find the ladder! It should be in the flowers!"

"My flowers!" Lizzie cried, and Edwin, laughing madly, ran with her into the back yard. All was quiet, until…

"Oh my god! The ladder really _did _fall!"

"Casey! Derek! Help us get it up!"

"It's crushed your irises, Liz!"

"They'll never recover _now_," Lizzie wept.

"Elizabeth McDonald!" Nora barked. "Stop crying over your flowers and _help us down!"_

It took a record time of seven minutes to get the ladder up to the roof, and another four to get the adults to a point where they could access the ladder without falling and breaking their necks. As Nora slowly made her way down, she whispered to George, "Maybe I can reconsider about those sunsets…"

In her head, she added, _Maybe they're not all that depressing after all._

Then, as an afterthought and in a louder voice, said "I hope you know that this means that you're never fixing anything on the roof again."

**A/N:** This started as something to blow off steam, but turned into something that I really enjoyed. As you can guess, by this time I'm slowly becoming "That George and Nora writer," but I kind of like the title.

Please report and questions, love, or concerns by pressing the white button!

VM

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